prayers, poems, liturgies, sermons, theological reflections, and rants from my experience and witness as a United Church of Christ pastor who has been serving in ministry since 2007.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Always With You
The following is a poem I wrote a few years ago for this season of light. As an interfaith chaplain working in a clinical setting, I wanted to created a poem/prayer that could address all the faith traditions that gather this time of the year and who celebrate the light.
O morning star,
splendor of light
eternal and bright,
come and shine on all
who live in darkness----
in the shadows of despair
frozen in the winter of unbelief.
Come and shatter the calm of night.
Into the deep of our broken world,
dare to come.
Into the middle of our gloom,
come scatter the glow of hope's candle,
the return of the sun,
the birth of the son.
Let yourself shine
for one night
for eight days
four sundays.
Come rekindle this fire of compassion
in us
behind us
before us
always with You.
image by Jan L. Richardson, Ephiphany
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Her Gift (Mark 7:24-37)
Wellington Ave. United Church of Christ
September 9, 2012
“Did Jesus sin?” This was one of the first questions asked to one of my fellow
seminarians at her ecclesiastical council. What kind of trick question is this
I thought as I and I imagined others anxiously awaiting her answer. “ Of course he is without sin, he’s the Lamb
of God. He died for our sins. What
the ….? Just as she was about to give
her answer, the pastor threw in a clarifying question, “What about his conversation with the Syrophoenician woman?” The
who? Oh, my God, I’m never going to make it through this process. I’m still
biblically illiterate. My colleague paused for what seemed eternity and then
said, “No, he didn’t sin.” And that
was the end of the questioning on this fine theological point. My colleague
passed her Ecclesiastical Council but I was quite convinced that I was not
going to pass mine for I started to wonder all over again about Jesus’ divinity
and humanity----could his human part sin?
So I went over to Rev. Kakos during the
celebratory tea and cake to ask him about his question. I wanted to know why he
had asked this question and if she had answered satisfactorily. He said he
likes to throw in a difficult theological question to see how the
minister-to-be handles it, how open they are to admitting what they know and
what they don’t know. “How did she do?”
I ventured carefully, hoping he wouldn’t turn this around and ask me the same
question. He smiled and said
cryptically, “Ministers need to be able
to think on their feet and be flexible, be open to multiple points of
view.”
This conversation with Rev. Kakos was
sort of like a Zen story, something profound was being communicated to me but I
wasn’t entirely sure I was getting it. What I did get, however, was that I
needed to know what this story was about and what it had to do with whether or
not Jesus sinned. So I went home and
read this story first in Mark and then in Matthew. I was awed and shocked. I was awed by this woman’s
persistence, audacity, gustiness, self-possession, and wit. I was shocked by
Jesus’ response to her ---both his silence and then his derogatory comment
about her and her daughter being like dogs not worthy to eat the crumbs under
the table.
Let us review the story together. The
story unfolds in the region of Tyre and Sidon, the heart of pagan territory.
Jesus goes to this Gentile land not as a prophet with a message about love or
salvation but to rest and escape the crowds and the constant demands on his
time. He has also just had a confrontation with the Pharisees in Galilee and so
is probably not feeling like his ministry is going very well with his own
people. He is in need of a little alone
time, down time.
So, then, here comes this woman into
the place he is staying, a pagan woman, a Syrophoenician in Mark’s Gospel, a
Canaanite in Mathew’s gospel. She is desperate about her daughter’s illness and
begs Jesus to heal her. It is important to know that in the Jewish tradition,
non-Jews were considered unclean and outside of God’s care and redemption. This
woman is a religious outsider and a foreigner. She is also a woman. Furthermore, women do not talk to men in
public including backwater healers like Jesus from Galilee. The cultural clash
is striking on all fronts. Yet love and
concern for her daughter, coupled with her faith that Jesus can cure her drives
her to approach this man. She does so humbly, kneeling at his feet.
Jesus does not offer her his usual kindness
pastoral but rather a harsh rebuke, “Let
the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and
throw it to the dogs.” Jesus is saying that what he has, the food of the
soul, is for the children of Israel only. Furthermore, it would be absurd to
waste it on foreign dogs like her and her child. She can have the crumbs later.
There are priorities and protocols, rules and regulations. Jesus sounds like
one of the Pharisees. How ironic. Perhaps he just has compassion fatigue.
Perhaps he is product of his own time full of racial prejudices.
The woman, this
desperate single-minded mother doesn’t take no for an answer though. She does
not allow her own hurt feelings to stand in her way. She doesn’t stomp off in a
snit or start yelling or anything else I could imagine doing myself if I were
in her shoes. Instead she frames an intelligent, I dare say, witty response
that neither contradicts him nor cedes her own point. She meets his dismissal
with honor and respect, “Sir, even the
dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”
She demands he help her even with
crumbs. Now, on one hand, she is saying that even the crumbs are holy and that
this will be enough. What faith! And on the other hand, like one of Gandhi’s
followers in his nonviolent resistance movement, she has just revealed the
teeth of the oppressor for all to see or hear--- in this case including the
oppressor himself, Jesus. She has spoken truth to power and risked everything
for the love of her daughter, her daughter’s health. Her truth telling, her
humility, her risk taking, her faith in crumbs opens the door to Jesus’ heart.
Then Jesus
said, “For saying that, you may go---the
demon has left your daughter.” Jesus, the man or god, who was caught with “his
compassion down” now has a change of heart, a moment of grace. This woman’s intercessory ministry moves
Jesus past his tiredness, his bad mood, his racism, and his sexism. She calls his bluff. She calls him back to his
humanity by reminding him of hers. Jesus
was suddenly able to see and “let the dogs out of his consciousness” and regain
his perspective, which is both human and divine. He has been taught by this
brave woman how to reclaim his identity as the Christ whose Beloved Community
is for all, not only the Jews.
As a UU minister friend of mine said
about Jesus shift, “He was cured of the
bigotry of his time and society.” She says the irony is that while he
restores the daughter to health, the Syrophoenician woman restores Jesus to
himself so that he can become the Messiah.
“For Saying That” was my second choice for
sermon title because it is the woman’s sharp retort that changes everything
including how the mission will now include even those pagan dogs, the Gentiles.
It is her gift to him.
There is a mutuality of gift giving here that
implies that God needs our engagement, even our retorts, for all that God can
be. I find this a radical notion that God needs us, each one of us for God to accomplish the mission of salvation.
My Jewish friends and rabbis tell me, of
course you can dialogue with God, influence God’s decisions for isn’t this what
Moses did and all the prophets when they pleaded with God not to smite everyone
for the sake of a few wicked.
As I think back to my conversation with Rev.
Kakos and the question he didn’t ask me, I would say to him now, the question
isn’t whether or not Jesus sinned but rather how Jesus acted and then
changed. He changed because he listened to the extent that love would go. He changed because he didn’t like the kind
of man he saw in the mirror she was holding up for him to see. Jesus changed
because He listened to someone he didn’t want to listen to, to someone he
considered less than human, no better than a dog. He changed because he knows that the crumbs are connected to the
bread, to his body broken for others to be made whole. He changed because he knows in his heart, if not his head, even if it
will be hard to convince others, that his mission of salvation is for everyone.
He knows, like we do, that the table
must be open to all regardless of class, race, sexual orientation, legal
status, or even beliefs.
So one of the lessons I hope you will take
away from this story is that we don’t always have to get it right, but we do
have to listen to people, especially those we don’t want to. We especially have
to listen to those folks we have deemed “other”, who are foreigners, who are on
the margins. Jesus learns how to be the Christ from one of the poor and most
despised outcasts, a foreign woman.
Who are you learning from?
Who are you feeding only the crumbs of your being to? Who do you give the
fullness of yourself to?
Finally, are you OK following the way of a messiah who doesn’t always get
it right?
Is perfection the goal for any of us?
So, back to the
question, did Jesus sin when he refused to see this woman as part of his family,
his beloved community? Yes, he missed the mark. His dismissive and hurtful
remark denied her humanity, her dignity. It also denied him his and thus, the
ability to fulfill his divine mission.
Was he redeemed? Yes. He was saved by love, the unconditional and
relentless love of a mother for her sick daughter. He was saved because he
heard the injustice of his remarks in her willingness to accept even the
crumbs. His hearing restored him, which allowed for mutual healing to occur.
I have come to
love this difficult story of protest and reclamation in which a displaced woman
reclaims her place at the table. I love the fact that Jesus starts out not
looking so good but gets saved.
This story confirms what I have
experienced---that I am changed by the people I minister to. And yes, I love
stories about uppity women, women who speak their minds no matter what, like
some of the women named on my stole or in this congregation. I am drawn to
people who dare to risk being who they are or who practice a ministry of
witnessing for others. Our UCC tradition is rich in its history about people
speaking out against injustice; this is part of our rich and proud legacy. Her
story is a beacon for us.
Let us model ourselves after both
Jesus and this Syrophonecian woman. Both were boundary crossers. Both risked
transformation. Let us accept their gifts. Amen.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Holiness is Intimate not Pure
The following prayers come were created by me as the liturgist for September 2, 2012 at my home church of Wellington Ave. United Church of Christ. I chose to focus my Call to Confession on the lectionary texts for the Sunday: Song of Solomon 2:8-13 and Mark 7:1-8, 14-15,21-23. As is the tradition in my church the liturgist leads the first half of the service which includes The Call to Confession, Unison Prayer of Confession, and Words of Assurance. If it is a Communion Sunday then the liturgist will also preside at the table. I wrote an Invitation to the table based on the themes covered in the Confession and the texts of the day and the theme of gathering that Rev. Mousin used in his preaching about labor and Labor Day.
Call to Confession
I love this
morning’s Hebrew texts especially this joyous poem from the Song of Songs.
Whether you believe it is about God’s love for Israel as Jewish scholars have
taught or God’s love for the church as Christians have taught or a mystical
snapshot on romantic and sensual love, it is all about how holiness is
intimate, beautiful, and invitational. It’s about what God’s love can teach us about human love, or what human love can teach us about God’s
love.
And maybe because
of this, early church father Origen advises against us talking about these
texts too much, “I advise and counsel
everyone who is not yet rid of vexations of the flesh and blood, and has not
ceased to feel the passions of this bodily nature to refrain from reading the
book and the things that will be said about it.”
Is love only for
those who would describe themselves as “rid of
vexations of the flesh and blood” or has “ceased to feel passions” of a “bodily
nature?” There seems to me to be a
huge fear of the body here and a fear of the erotic in general, such that even
talking about it might… might what? Might
make us want to do things we shouldn’t? Might
suggest we have an embodied faith? that
we are called to love our Lord our God with all our heart, mind, soul, and body.
So this lovely springtime
love lyric comes along in our lectionary at the end of summer, accompanying a
New Testament text about purity laws and defilement. It comes after the feeding stories where real
people are literally fed.
This text also
comes after weeks of attacks on women and their bodies. It has been so bad that
some have called it a War on Women.
It
has been so intense and crazy that women have even been called sluts for simply
wanting birth control. One was even asked to leave the legislative assembly for
saying Vagina in public. And how some, mostly white men, have suggested that
there is a difference between legitimate and illegitimate rape and that you
can’t get pregnant from rape because the body knows how to shut down to prevent
this from taking place.
This combination
of fear and ignorance of the human reproductive system and sexuality is truly
frightening and deserves our faithful attention as much as the other social,
economic, and political issues we work on here at Wellington. The repercussions of this war are lethal---
real women are being denied healthcare and real women are having unwanted
pregnancies due to rape.
But this fear of
women and their bodies is also about fear of Women’s power, just follow what is
happening to our Catholic sisters who are being asked to pull back on their
social justice work and focus more on abortion issues or else… Their orders are
on censored lockdown with a few brave souls speaking out.
And this fear is
not limited to women, this fear of bodies and the erotic, it’s an ongoing
denial of rights for our GLBT sisters and brothers, denying them healthcare,
marriage, even leadership roles in our faith communities. Sexual orientation
and identity are even side-lined in our comprehensive sexual health programs
and as NBC in Utah has just shown not appropriate for their viewing audience
when they censored “The New Normal” a new TV show about two gay men starting a
family.
Perhaps Origen was
right we are not ready to read these texts but not because we are not finished
with exploring our erotic passions but because we don’t even know where or how
to begin, how to integrate our bodies into our faith, our lives.
And so I turn to
the Song of Songs, to Jesus’ healing stories about touching lepers and “unclean
women” for some relief, some perspective. And then there comes this lectionary
text about purity and impurity, a toe to toe with the Pharisees about washing
your hands of all things. Jesus manages to make washing your hands secondary to
the issues of clean hearts and actions. He uses this confrontation to once
again remind us that it is not what goes into the body that is too be feared
but what comes out.
“Then he called the crowd and said to them,
“Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person
that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile”
or as the Message translation puts it, “It’s
not what you swallow that pollutes your life; it’s what you vomit---that’s the
real pollution.”
“For it is from within, from the human heart
that evil intentions come”
“It’s what comes out of a person that
pollutes.”
“All
evil comes from within, and they defile a person,” ---“there is the source of pollution.”
Defilement or
pollution comes from within. It includes actions like murder and theft,
adultery and greed, slander and obscenities, arrogance and foolishness. All of
these come from within.
So to finish this
morning, I invite you this week to meditate or pray on the ways you have defiled yourself
or others or when you yourself have felt defiled.
As you do this remember to breathe.
You might use your outbreath as a breath of letting go, letting God.
In addition, when
you see or hear about others defiling others, stand up, speak out. Your silence
makes you complicit. As the late Howard Zinn said, “You cant’ be neutral on a
moving train.”
Join me now in our
Prayer of Confession as we collectively bring forward to God the ways we as a
community have missed the mark, polluted our environment, not responded yet to
God’s invitation.
Unison Prayer of Confession
Beloved, you invite us to love you with our whole selves---playful, sensual, fun, and romantic. You invite us to encounter the world, not
escape from it, to become intoxicated with the fragrance of the fruits of your
creation. You invite us into a heavenly and earthly intimacy. Beloved, you
invite us to love each other with our whole selves—dirty hands and all, to walk
the talk, to speak to our shadow sides, to let go of self judgments that
declare us “defiled”, or project onto others our sense of impurity. You invite us into a relationship where the
actions of our hearts are stronger than the laws we have created to worship
you. Your holiness is based on wholeness not purity. We confess that without your embodied desire
for us to arise and meet you, we would most likely stay put in our prisons of
shame and set up border patrols against all those we have decided are “other”
or unworthy. Forgive us these trespasses
and those who trespass against us. Help
us to know and live the truth that we are deeply loved, imperfect and flawed as
we are. Beloved, pour your grace upon us
this morning, anoint us to sing your songs of love and justice. Amen.
Words of Assurance
Arise dear ones, our Beloved calls each one of us into the
dance of life to enjoy the fruits of creation. Intimacy, sexuality, leaping and
bounding around like gazelles are all permissible. Eating with dirty hands with common folk are also permissible
for what God demands of us is not purity but faithfulness between our heart and
our actions. Our bodies are temples but
they are also instruments of love.
And when we are not in alignment, when we are polluting the
world with our defiling actions towards ourselves, others and creation, God’s
love is still there---wide enough to forgive us if we are willing to name these
transgressions and truly seek help or repentance. For God’s love is like a GPS
device which seeks to keep us on the path, no matter how many wrong turns we
make. God does not punish us, but seeks to correct our mistakes by
recalculating the route. Finally, God wants our partnership, loves us like a lover,
wants union with us like a marriage. These are our assurances.
Reflection Before Invitation
We cannot love God
unless we love each other,
and to love we must
know each other.
We know God in the breaking of bread,
and we know each
other in the sharing of bread,
and we know we are
not alone any more.
Heaven is a banquet,
too, even with a crust,
where there is
companionship.
Dorothy Day, in
The Long Loneliness
Invitation to The Table
As bread that was
scattered on the hillside,
was gathered
together and made one,
so too, we, your
people,
scattered throughout
the world,
are gathered
together around your table
and become one.
As grapes grown in
the field
are gathered
together and pressed into wine,
so too are we drawn
together
and pressed by our
times to share a common lot
and are transformed
into your life-blood
for all.
So let us prepare to
eat and drink
as Jesus taught us
with hands cleaned or not.
Let us invite the
stranger, the outcast, the “defiled”, the worker, the immigrant, the gay,
lesbian, bisexual, or transgendered
to our table----all are welcome. There are no guest lists.
May those who are
absent from this table serve to remind us
of the divisions
this Eucharist seeks to heal.
May their presence
help transform us
into the whole body
of Christ we share.
* Invitation Prayer was adapted from a Prayer attributed to the Iona Community
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